


Sometimes It Burns

by sayum, thegirlnamedcrow



Series: Just a Servant to the Once and Future Prat [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Arthur POV, Coffee Shop, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, M/M, Merlin POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-19
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2018-01-05 04:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1089376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sayum/pseuds/sayum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlnamedcrow/pseuds/thegirlnamedcrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a moment, he realized his hands were still holding Merlin’s around the cup, and he withdrew quickly, moving to pick up his own coffee to mask his embarrassment. Christ, he really was useless when he was under stress. If he wasn’t careful, this Merlin bloke was going to think Arthur was coming on to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t that he’d expected his law studies to be  _easy_  - Arthur wasn’t a complete idiot, no matter what some people said - but he’d been thoroughly unprepared for how utterly soul-crushing his academic career was rapidly proving to be.

Arthur was good at many things. He’d always made excellent marks in maths, he was a fantastic public speaker, and he’d been captain of the football team back at Eton. But apparently he was completely incapable of hammering the intricacies of the British legal system into his brain.

That morning he’d completely failed an important exam, fucking up so completely that he knew he couldn’t possibly have managed to pass. He’d only been able to answer about half the questions before giving up and writing in the names of  _Doctor Who_  episodes instead. As amusing as this undoubtedly was, he didn’t think his instructor would accept “The Empty Child” or “Silence in the Library” as adequate responses. 

Whatever. It wasn’t like these introductory classes even mattered. He’d breeze through them and get to the  _real_  part of his law studies, and that would more than make up for the humiliation of having to sit through this course.

After everything, though, he thought he deserved an afternoon coffee.

He barely registered the man behind the counter as he chimed, “Hello, welcome!”, catching only the vague impression of a bright smile and gangly limbs. Typical arts student, he thought dismissively, before looking down at his phone to check the time.

3:25.  _Damn_ , later than he’d thought - he barely would have time to enjoy his drink before he was scheduled to meet with his father.

Feeling rather pressed for time, Arthur approached the counter, speaking his order down to the floor as he rummaged in his coat for his wallet. “Triple shot zebra mocha, please. Extra whip.”

"Alright, triple z, double whip – damn, sounds like a heartbreak drink, doesn’t it?" the man replied cheerfully, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth in concentration as he scribbled on the cup, which he then nearly dropped. "Dammit! Slippery thing. Can I have a name to go with that sugar rush?"

Arthur had pulled out his phone again immediately after placing his order, rechecking his calendar to confirm that he really  _was_  set to meet his father at half four.  _Lord_ , was that going to be a nightmare - he’d have to change into the stuffy clothes Uther liked him to wear, and come clean about the failed test, and…

He’d been asked a question.

"What? Oh, Arthur," he said distractedly, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

"Hey, are you alright?" The man turned his head to the side and leaned against the counter so he was smiling up at Arthur.

The coffee bloke’s question caught him a bit off-guard, and more than a little rubbed him the wrong way. Yes, Arthur was sure he looked like hell on sale, what with the late nights and lack of time to do anything reasonable with his hair, but wasn’t it rude to just ask a random stranger about that?

"What, can’t a bloke stop for a spot of coffee  _without_ moping over something ridiculous?” he snapped, realizing that he really wasn’t helping his case but not really caring. He scowled at the nameless barista, unwelcoming hostility radiating out from him. ”I’m  _fine_ , thanks. How much for the coffee?”

"Oh, but of course, you  _are_  right, Arthur! My apologies.” The man said, smiling. "For you?" He looked back at Arthur, as if deciding on the price he was going to make him pay. "₤3.40." Which was, of course, the price listed on the board overhead. The barista turned away to start on his order while the Arthur rummaged for payment.

It was with great difficulty that Arthur resisted the impulse to roll his eyes at the man’s antics. As  _if_  he was going to attempt to rip him off - everything about Arthur just reeked of a lawsuit waiting to happen. But he was a Pendragon, and Pendragons did  _not_  do anything as undignified as rolling their eyes in a crowded coffee shop.

"Keep the change," he said, handing over the bills, not really believing that the intrusive young man deserved the tip but unwilling to continue their conversation long enough for him to fish the coins out of the till. He needed his caffeine, and he needed it  _now_ , or he was going to string the barista up by his ridiculous ears.

"Thank you!" came the chipper reply over the noise of the register drawer opening and the cash being added in its proper tray. The tip did not go unnoticed and there was a small grin on the dark haired man’s face as he went about making the drink.

Arthur couldn’t resist one final jab as he watched the man write his name on his cup. “Your handwriting is ridiculous, by the way.”

"Not my usual,” the barista replied as he put the finishing whipped cream and syrupy touches on the sugary comfort drink. "I thought it fitting though. What with you being…er…" He gestured towards Arthur. "…well, you. You are an Arthur! And I’m, um, well…"

He fumbled with his uniform polo for where his name was embroidered. "Ah there. I’m a Merlin." He pointed to his name. "Well, most likely  _the_  Merlin since the rest of the world was graced with mothers that gave their children sensible names like Adam or Jeremy.” He gave a lopsided smile shrug before passing Arthur his drink on the counter. “Anyway, here you are!”

"Because I’m an  _Arthur_ ,” he drawled, carefully enunciating each word and raising an eyebrow on his name. “ _Very_  interesting. Tell me, Merlin - if I’d been a Bert or a Roger, would I have gotten block capitals? Or perhaps your number, surrounded by a cloud of hearts? Really, I’m quite curious about this fascinating little habit of yours.”

Something about teasing him made Arthur feel immediately better, in a way he couldn’t quite understand, and far from wanting to escape the conversation, he instead rather hoped to remain by the counter, drawing out the interaction as long as possible.

As he picked the cup up from the counter, relishing the heat against his cold fingers, he asked “And, Merlin? Really Merlin? That’s… Unfortunate. My condolences.”

He grinned up at him, wondering just how far he could push this before breaking Merlin’s patience and the good will his tip had clearly earned him.

"I would never give my number out freely to a customer,” Merlin replied. “ You understand my position, next they’ll be asking for refills and drinks on the house. Nice try though!"

Arthur could’ve yelled at Merlin. He could’ve raged and stormed an insisted that he Wasn’t Like That, that he’d  _never_  try to cosy up to a man, especially not a gangly awkward twit like this  _Merlin_  here, with his ridiculous name and ridiculous ears and  _stupid_  embroidered polo shirt.

But he’d learned that those antics only ever served to incriminate him, to make him seem far guiltier than he actually was. Instead, he shrugged, smiled, and responded with smooth, easy confidence.

"Believe me, Merlin. If I were trying to get someone’s number in order to get free coffee out of them, you’d hardly be my first choice." He took a sip of his coffee and made a great show of gagging at the taste. "Euch. I’m not sure I’ve ever tasted something quite so foul. No, I’d go for someone capable of making me a cup that  _doesn’t_  taste like rhino piss.”

In actuality, the coffee was very good. Strong espresso, its bite perfectly masked by the syrups and milk. Exactly what he needed on a day like today, but it wasn’t as though he was going to tell Merlin that.

"Please tell me ‘rhino piss’ is the name of a sports drink or something,” Merlin replied. “If not, do keep the story of your exotic beverage adventures to yourself, thanks."

Arthur nearly spit up his drink at that one. Oh, but this Merlin was a clever one, wasn’t he? 

His bad mood well and truly forgotten by now, Arthur shook his head, affecting a world-weary expression. “The fact that your mind immediately went there makes me incredibly worried about exactly  _what_  sort of person you are,” he said, taking another sip of his coffee. “Do you often spend time around the sorts of people who legitimately might know what exotic animal urine tastes like?”

He was thankful that he had ducked in at the end of a busy swell - since filling his order, there had been no one else in the shop to distract Merlin away from him, giving Arthur the opportunity to really push at him, and to enjoy it as he pushed back.

"It takes all sorts. Who am I, a humble connoisseur and servant of fine coffees and teas, to judge another man’s taste? Though you should really go easy on the more questionable delicacies, if the greatest coffee in the world reminds you of an endangered animal’s liquid excrement."

"Yes… Small place like this, I can see that you’d get a rather odd bunch coming in. Explains why you seem to fit in so well." He flashed the young man a brilliant smile at this, the smile he’d spent years perfecting, which could get him out of virtually any trouble. "I suppose you’d want a few of the piss-drinking sorts - they won’t notice just how toxic this stuff really is."

He took another sip of his drink, not bothering to mask the contented smack of his lips as he swallowed the sugary liquid down. Between the caffeine and the interesting company, he felt more than ready to face up to his father later.

It was all just a bit of fun, of course - Arthur didn’t actively dislike Coffee Bloke - he was beginning to rather like him, in fact - and if not for Merlin matching him blow for blow, he might have worried that he was coming across as a bully. But Merlin took it all remarkably in stride.

It wasn’t exactly that Arthur felt he could be himself around this strange man. In actuality he wasn’t anywhere near as difficult as he was coming off. But there was something refreshing about completely abandoning propriety, about just letting go and acting like a complete prat without worrying about the consequences.

"What made you decide to work here, then?" he asked, between sips. "You certainly fit the stereotype, but surely you’re better suited for some other line of work."

"My basically Uncle owns the shop so working here just sort of happened,” Merlin said. “Officially I have been working here since I was of legal working age. Unofficially…since I was born."

"I hardly believe you were whipping up lattes as an infant,  _Mer_ lin,” Arthur drawled, raising an eyebrow. “As much as this tastes like a newborn was in charge of preparing it. Given that you’ve been doing this for so long, you’d think you’d be a bit better at this.”

He took a final sip of his coffee, head buzzing a bit with the heady mix of caffeine and sugar, and pulled his phone from his pocket.  _Damn_ ; he had to leave now, or risk being late to meet his father. 

And with Uther Pendragon, being late simply was  _not_  an option.

Sighing, he tossed the now empty cup into a nearby bin, staring wistfully after it. He’d have liked to stay longer, to order some other sickeningly sweet and equally delicious drink off the menu, and continue sniping back and forth with this strange young man. The few minutes they’d had had done Arthur a world of good.

Well. There was always next time.

"I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve Very Important Business to attend to," he said, the capital letters almost audible in his tone.

"Oh I am certain you do." Merlin said, punctuating the sentence with mocking doubt of Arthur’s importance.

Unable to stop himself, he turned back towards the bar and said, “Oh, and Merlin? With those ears, perhaps snarky isn’t the way to go.”

"And with that big head, Arthur, you  _really_  needn’t be such a big arse as well,” Merlin called after him. “See you tomorrow.”

Had he not had an image to keep up, Arthur would’ve flipped Merlin the two-fingered salute on his way out. Not out of any particular malice, but because it seemed like the right thing to do in the present situation. Instead, he satisfied himself with making a wry expression back at Merlin before stepping out into the cold outside.

As he pulled his keys from his pocket to unlock the car, he noticed a brown splotch Huh. He’d spilled a bit of coffee onto the sleeve, staining the crisp white fabric of the cuff. 

 _Damn._  He didn’t have time to go home and change before meeting his father, and he knew how much Uther hated slovenly dressing. He’d be sure to notice the stain immediately and roundly chew Arthur out about it.

He should have taken the coffee on the road, despite how horrifically American the idea of it was, but instead he’d stayed to chat… Well, he couldn’t quite bring himself to regret the delay.

Whatever. Uther could sodding deal with it.


	2. Lukewarm Consciousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin had been awake for twenty eight hours, forty some minutes, and who the hell is keeping track anymore seconds. Merlin had experienced worse all night study sessions, ones before midterms or finals with less sleep and more bullshitting on papers. Nevertheless, the lack of sleep did not bode well after half a day of taking orders, hearing complaints, and cleaning up after customers and Merlin’s normally fantastic customer relation marks were threateningly low. The ‘fucking loud as fuck’ bell that hung on the ‘fucking door that will not just fucking stay shut for one fucking second’ rang once again, forcing Merlin to lift himself up off the counter where his head had been resting.  
> "Hello…welcome…what can I get started for you? It’ll prolly be ₤3.40 or ₤3.75 or ₤4.20 so if you’re not paying with card be prepared to give or receive exact change."

Merlin had been awake for twenty eight hours, forty some minutes, and who the hell is keeping track anymore seconds. Merlin had experienced worse all night study sessions, ones before midterms or finals with less sleep and more bullshitting on papers. Nevertheless, the lack of sleep did not bode well after half a day of taking orders, hearing complaints, and cleaning up after customers and Merlin’s normally fantastic customer relation marks were threateningly low. The ‘fucking loud as fuck’ bell that hung on the ‘fucking door that will not just fucking stay shut for one fucking second’ rang once again, forcing Merlin to lift himself up off the counter where his head had been resting. 

"Hello…welcome…what can I get started for you? It’ll prolly be ₤3.40 or ₤3.75 or ₤4.20 so if you’re not paying with card be prepared to give or receive exact change."

Merlin was  _not_  in the mood to deal with more mothers or lawyers having their hands full of babies, papers, or smart phones and taking bloody forever to get a free hand as if paying was something foreign and novel they had not been expecting before they ordered.

"I didn’t think it was possible to look quite so terrible surrounded by so much coffee,” said a familiar voice. “Chin up, Merlin - you’ve got the perfect job for someone as exhausted as you."

Merlin looked up to see his favourite prat waiting at the counter, casting him a winning grin. "Two red-eyes, please. Extra milk in one, the other… however you’d recommend." 

As Merlin set to work on the drinks, Arthur craned his neck from behind the counter. Noticing something rather odd about the first cup, he cleared his throat, nodded down at it, and raised an eyebrow.

"You know,  _Mer_ lin, my name is Arthur, not Martha. I know your handwriting is bad, but this is taking it a step to far - I think someone’s a bit confused today.”

"Are you certain?" Merlin said with a tired yet convincingly thoughtful look. He went about making ‘Martha’s’ first so he could wake up enough to make Arthur’s. All right, so maybe ‘Martha’s’ was more complex and just  _maybe_  he would rather be more awake to focus on Arthur’s. But it was not because he liked Arthur’s company or anything. No, it was just the second time customer treat, to make sure they came back and ne’er darkened the doorway of any shitty Starbucks or corner coffee store again. Nothing to do with Merlin’s opinion of Arthur. Not to mention he could make a black eye in his sleep. Yes, they were supposed to cost more than a red-eye but who was keeping tabs?

"I’m pretty confident about the spelling of my  _name_ , Merlin,” Arthur said pointedly. “Been my name since I was born, and as far as I know it hasn’t gone and changed itself in the middle of the night.”

"Look, this one," Merlin picked up the cup with the better writing, "is yours. Whereas this one," he carefully lifted the cup already being filled with coffee, "is for your girlfriend or your coworker or your boss or  _whatever_  poor sod you’ve decided to disturb with your precious coffee break who, for all I know, could very well be named Martha.”

Admittedly, though only inwardly, Merlin was being a bit short with him out of irrational jealousy. Some lucky git had Arthur fetching them coffee. Sure that meant someone out their was stuck with putting up with the prat but still…it would be nice to have a friend or even a lackey to go buy Merlin coffee when he was grumpy or tired or simply craving the caffeine. Sure he  _worked_  in a coffee shop but that did not mean he was allowed to make himself drinks as he pleased while on the clock. Instead he had to smell it all and hope to get some sort of second hand high from the fumes under his nose.

Nevertheless he made ‘Martha’s’ coffee as properly as he would for any other customer but that did not mean he had to spend time at all on the name. No one ever cared about the name. Some people did not even bother to look which was a source of entertainment for Merlin and Freya when they were bored out of their minds.

When Merlin handed him the coffees, Arthur shifted slightly. “For you, actually,” he said, suddenly awkward. A bit too quickly, he added, ”Don’t look too pleased with yourself; I’ve a massive paper to write and I’ll need you alive to make sure my cup never runs dry.” He pressed the cup back into Merlin’s hands, curling the other man’s fingers around it. “Here you go, Martha. Cheers!”

Merlin’s jaw dropped slightly at this new bit of information. It was a twist in the plot of their interactions that he had not been expecting. Arthur, this rich, blond prat that stood before him, did something nice for him. Arthur did something  _thoughtful_.

For Merlin.

That could not be right. There had to be some other motive, another side to the gesture that would benefit Arthur. Merlin immediately observed Arthur with a renewed intensity as the man helped his fingers curl around the warm cup. So, Arthur claimed his suspicions yet the argument seemed weak. Arthur seemed fidgety. Merlin had a hard time breaking the silence but when he finally managed it his voice was clear and honest.

"Thank you, Arthur." No one had ever bought Merlin coffee before. Not a customer anyway. Occasionally Freya would take him to an expensive cafe for his birthday or to celebrate a paper bullshitted to an A+. This was different though. Arthur was not his friend. Not really. Not yet. As Merlin looked down at the perfect black eye and took that first sip of life, he settled on fixing that little detail, bit by bit.

Arthur waved off the thanks, as if it had been nothing. "Like I said, I’ll need you alive and kicking while I finish this paper, and I can’t have you making a mess of it. I’m very particular about my coffee, you know.” He took a sip of his coffee, swirling the hot liquid around his mouth for a moment as if he were tasting a fine wine. “You didn’t too badly with this - let’s see if you can keep up the good work.”

Merlin drank gulps of coffee for every moment he was not speaking. He felt a rush of warmth beneath his skin, starting from his middle and spreading outward.

"Yes,  _very_  particular. I’ll just keep the rhino piss coming then.”

Arthur’s smile brightened when Merlin snarked back at him.  “Well, not that it’s saying much, but you make the best rhino piss I’ve had the pleasure to drink.” He paused for a moment, and added, “Not that I’ve ever actually drank rhino piss. But as incompetent as you obviously are, this’ll do the job of keeping me going until I’ve vanquished this beastly paper.”

"Soooo…what are you writing?" Merlin was more curious about Arthur now. He had clearly misjudged him for a stereotype and now felt he needed to revaluate him entirely. No doubt Arthur was still a prat but perhaps not as big of a fool Merlin had taken him for. If anything he was an observant, compassionate prat instead of a rich, insensitive one.

Merlin motioned for Arthur to follow, walking around and out from behind the counter to show him where the best quiet spots were hiding. It was a little nook with a few tables and comfortable chairs where Merlin spent most of his breaks. Here, he could not be seen from the front door and the noise of the cafe (in the times it was actually noisy) seemed to dull as if by some form of magic. It was Merlin’s favourite spot. Freya even went as far as to call it his cave.

"It’s for my international relations course." Arthur replied. ”Some tosh about the ethicality and efficacy of the death penalty, comparing different countries’ policies and all that rubbish.” He paused a moment for a brief sulk. “It’s not like we’ve even got capital punishment here - I can’t understand why they’re making us write so much about it.” 

"Probably because 60% of the world’s population lives in a country that still practices it." He said in a tired, offhand sort of way. "Mind the numbers have gone down significantly, as have the severity of methods." Merlin was interested in a wide variety of subjects and writing led him to gather an even larger assortment of knowledge. The things swimming around in Merlin’s head surprised even him at times, though now was not one of those.

No, what  _was_  surprising happened to be the moment at hand. Merlin knew he should mosey back to his station, yet he wanted to hear more about Arthur.  _Merlin wanted to hear more about Arthur._  It was hard to sort through their brief encounters and unveil a reason for this occurrence. Arthur was a prat. Merlin did not like prats. Arthur gave him coffee. Merlin liked coffee. Was it the coffee though? Or was it the way Arthur kept up with Merlin’s witty remarks and even caught him off his guard? Whatever the reason, Merlin did not bid him a farewell and depart. Instead, the tired coffee enthusiast sipped at his perfect wake up cup and lingered in Arthur’s company, hoping to learn more about his international studies and whatever else the prat got up to before he became fully immersed in his paper writing.

"I haven’t seen you around campus, but you’re a student at the university, aren’t you? What are you following?" Arthur tipped his head, considering. "Let me guess - art’s student? No, theatre. You look like the aspiring actor sort."

Merlin snorted into his cup at the mere suggestion, looking slightly offended. Theatre? Yes, at one time he was up on stage with his friends, acting out the classics and enjoying the opening night nerves and closing night celebrations. However, Merlin had always known it would end with that. The spotlight was not for him. Merlin had always been more the type to be off to the side or in the back, a part of things but not the centre of attention.

"Not even close, Arthur. Computer Engineering…and English." He added the last bit after another gulp of coffee. "So, typical computer geek stuff, keeping to myself in the lab or the library.”

Teasing came more easily now that the caffeine had brought him back from the dead. He was still a bit drowsy as he shifted his hands gently about the cup, stealing its heat. Merlin’s eyes were not on his coffee, however, but were quite steadily on Arthur. He noticed, for the first time, the feeling of triumph that bloomed in his chest when he said or did something that got Arthur to smile. It seemed like every grin was a small victory, another right won against the frowning face that had entered his shop the first time. Besides, Arthur had a nice smile. An honest one.

Arthur raised an eyebrow at that. “Really? The English I can understand, given…” Seemingly at a loss to describe it exactly, he just gestured at Merlin. “The way you are. But I’d’ve never pegged you for a  _programmer_. What, are you on a mission to design the perfect coffee machine, or something?”

“ _Ar_ thur,” Merlin said in a tone one might use to scold a child. “I  _am_  the perfect coffee machine.” He grinned, though got on with actually answering the question. “I’m just handy at computers. Thought I’d play by my strengths, see where it leads me.

All right, so that was not entirely the truth but Merlin did not want to get into all that. His reasons were his own, though he had a feeling he would tell Arthur eventually.

Arthur scoffed. “You’re hardly a machine,  _Mer_ lin. You’re about as strange as they come, but you’re not particularly inhuman, even if you can talk to computers.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you manage, really. I’m not one for technology. Give me a pen and paper over a MacBook any day - I don’t think I’d bother with a laptop if my professors didn’t require typed papers.”

"Fair enough, though at times I wish I was at least half computer. Dealing with certain customers would be so much easier if I had an automated response and a hard disk full of convincing bullshit."

Customers would be the death of him, Merlin swore. Even on a good day they wore him out and some of the questions they asked…one would quickly lose faith in the idea of an intelligent population.

Arthur laughed. "While your customer service is appalling at best, I don’t know that my cup of rhino piss’d quite be the same if it didn’t come with around of insults as well."

“What’re you then? International business? Going for a BA in Exotic Beverages, are you?"

“Law,” Arthur said quickly. “And… International relations,” he added, voice a bit smaller. “I’m hoping to go into international law when I get out of here. Maybe work for the UN, that sort of thing. I haven’t quite figured it out.”

"Law?  _Really?_  I mean, brilliant, that takes more brains than a rhino takes pisses but I suppose I never thought of you as that much of a suit. Er…not that…” He caught himself from denying something that might rather wrongfully incriminate him. Its not like he had the time to think about Arthur all that much. “…its a bad thing. I couldn’t do it though. I can navigate my way through the deep web and turn any program upside down but I couldn’t memorize all the detail required of politics and procedure. That’s impressive, that is.”

As soon as he ran out of things to say, Merlin was at his coffee again, cheeks flushing pink, partially from the heat and the other part from embarrassment towards his own ramblings.

At Merlin’s desperate floundering, Arthur began laughing again. “ _Relax_ , Merlin. You look like a dying fish. It’s not exactly what I’d have chosen for myself, but my father insisted. You know how it is - parents get an idea into their heads about what their children should be, and you can’t shake them from that no matter how hard you try. I couldn’t exactly say no when he’s the one footing my tuition bills.” He was obviously trying not to sound too put out at this. He didn’t entirely manage it.

Before continuing, he shrugged, and when he spoke this time, his voice was considerably more cheerful. “Joint honours was our way of compromising. It’s not bad - it’s a lot of work, but I don’t mind the law studies. And with a double degree, I’ll be able to do so much more than I could’ve managed with just International Relations.”

By the look on Merlin’s face when Arthur explained his university choices, no, he did not know how it was. His parents, his mum rather, had not insisted upon any particular career choice for Merlin. She  _had_  insisted that he try a number of subjects while he had the chance before settling on a major. Merlin had insisted on paying for college himself. His mother could not afford it really and Merlin had not minded having to pay it off. Most of his wages here went towards text book and other school supplies. The rest he would pay after he graduated. It was not bad by comparison. At least he got to choose the direction of his life. Arthur was getting his schooling paid, however, the price was having his degree chosen for him. Merlin frowned slightly. He felt irrationally angry on behalf of this near stranger. Instead of shout that it was not fair or that Arthur should decide what kind of person he wanted to be, Merlin looked his friend over again with very calm eyes.

"If you’d had the choice, what would you have picked, Arthur?"

He didn’t answer Merlin’s question for a few moments, staring moodily into his coffee and pointedly refusing to meet the other man’s gaze. When his voice came, it was cold but weary, practiced. “It doesn’t matter. I have a responsibility to continue my father’s work, and I’m not going to abandon my duties out of selfishness.

"Besides," he added, more brightly, but there was something forced about his smile. "International Relations really is great fun, and it’ll allow us to expand our business into new sectors when I’ve finished my education. Really, once my father realized the benefits of a joint degree he was very pleased I’d decided to put in the extra work." 

"Prat. That’s not an answer." He rolled his eyes playfully and sipped at his coffee. Merlin did not make any moves to force Arthur to answer properly. He could tell that it was a touchy subject that the other might not be willing to get into with Merlin just yet.  _Just yet? How well am I planning on getting to know this asshole?_  Merlin had no answer for himself. “Good on you though, Mr Over-achiever. I know your game, Arthur. You’re just doing it to make the rest of us look bad, you bloody-“

The front bell chimed cheerfully to announce that he had a customer. Merlin looked many layers of bothered, expression going from light and happy to dark and dangerous in a fraction of a second.

"Excuse me, Arthur." he said, frighteningly calm as he set down his coffee and disappeared to attend to the customer that had risked more than they knew while in search for a humble cup. Despite all of the unsettling vibes coming from the front counter, Merlin’s voice could be heard cheerfully around the corner.

"Welcome! What can I get finished for you?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full thread can be found at http://pratquefuturus.tumblr.com/tagged/lukewarm-consciousness/chrono


	3. Wasted Energies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was another delightful day at the shop. Merlin was serving the regular afternoon rush with a bright, sincere smile. He got updates on how all of the familiar faces were doing. The promotions, the engagements, the births in the family, vacation planning: Merlin got it all. He had not been expecting Arthur to come in at this time. Nor had he ever expected to see Arthur in company.

It was another delightful day at the shop. Merlin was serving the regular afternoon rush with a bright, sincere smile. He busied himself with updates on how all of the familiar faces were doing. The promotions, the engagements, the births in the family, vacation planning: Merlin got it all.

He had not been expecting Arthur to come in at this time. Nor had he ever expected to see Arthur in company.

"Hello, Merlin," Arthur said, grinning ruefully.

"Arthur! What a…"

From Arthur’s shoulder, the woman interrupted, “Aren’t you going to introduce me, Arthur?”

…surprise. The woman was cheerfully demanding in a way that made Merlin’s skin crawl.

"Merlin, this is Vivian-"

"Vivi!"

Arthur took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. “Merlin, this is Vivi. “

Vivian was, well, beautiful as far as looks went. For anyone who was deaf she would probably be the ideal coffee date but as soon as she opened her mouth, Merlin mentally shoved her into the same dark category where all of his annoying customers ended up. Vivian fit nicely into the spot that had once graced Arthur’s royally annoying arse. Somehow, that prat had wormed his way off of Merlin’s shit list faster than anyone.

Vivian, however, was competing with Arthur for the spotlight and Merlin’s favorite prat was actually  _losing_. The conversation bounced between them so fast that Merlin could hardly get half a say in.

"Hello Vivi, pleasure to…"

"We’re on a date!" She trilled.

…meet you. Well, not really, and he had only said it softly anyway when the whole situation was made known to him. A date? The idea settled in him wrong. Not that Arthur  _had_  a date but that he had brought said date here. Not to mention he had horrible taste in women.

"-and we are on a date," Arthur finished.

"Anyway," he said, glowering, "She’ll have…" 

He inclined his head at Vivian. Taking his cue, she immediately began gushing, “I’ll have a hot vanilla, please! Like hot chocolate but with vanilla instead, Arthur. Doesn’t that just sound so good? Oooh! And with chocolate sprinkles!”

"Just black coffee for me, thanks," he said, pointedly ignoring her question.

"Black?"

Arthur never ordered black. He did not always have something frilly but when he took it strong and dark it was with shots of espresso or syrups without cream. Vivian may have been deaf to Arthur’s misery, but Merlin read it clearly.

 “Isn’t Arthur just the sweetest, buying me coffee? And so handsome too, I just want-“

Arthur interrupted her. “Viv, why don’t you grab a table while I handle the bill?”

She looked slightly put out for a moment, but after pushing up onto her toes to peck Arthur on the cheek, she said, “Okay, Arthy!” and sauntered off to sit at one of the nearby tables.

As Arthur leaned forward to hand the bills over, he muttered, ”I am in  _hell_ , Merlin. You have  _got_  to get me out of this date.”

"I haven’t  _got_  to do anything,  _Arthy_.” Merlin replied, face keeping its pleasant barista appeal while his voice dipped into a teasing chuckle.

From across the room, Vivian was obviously getting bored, and was making an absolute scene of herself. “Arthuuuuuuur!” she squealed, raising the attention of nearby customers. 

"Be right there, Viv," he said, turning towards her with a dazzling and completely fake smile, before returning his attention to Merlin. Casting him another serious look, he raised an eyebrow meaningfully and said, "You don’t mind bringing the coffee over to us, yeah?" 

Without waiting for an answer, he moved away, heading back to sit at the table across from Vivian, and praying that his calm would hold. 

"Oi! I’m not a waiter, Arthur!" Merlin hissed after him. It was a pathetic point, though. Merlin brought Arthur coffee to his table all the time, even if he did not order anything else. That was their thing though, why did he have to get dragged into Arthur’s own mess of poor judgment? It heated Merlin up more than it should have. Nonetheless he made Vivian’s drink with flawlessness and disgust. Damn Arthur and his stupid date, ruining the peaceful atmosphere of his coffee shop. Vile. The both of them. Perhaps it was all too harsh but Merlin swore under his breath and whispered a prayer for long term suffering on Arthur for bringing a date into his shop. Merlin continued his brooding as he began getting Arthur’s black. He paused, however, eyes catching the back of Arthur’s head over the counter. Merlin sighed, set aside the black, and made Arthur something else instead.

He had not made it for Arthur before. It was one of his own recipes, a perfectly creamy vanilla-caramel twist that was strong enough to taste yet did not mask the rich base brew. One of Merlin’s collection of rare and perfect drinks. Bloody Arthur. The man was not even looking in Merlin’s direction and he was getting a sympathy drink from the barista. As much as Merlin would love to be merciless and watch Arthur pay for bringing his love life into their platonic coffee romance, he was not  _that_  awful.

As he accepted his coffee, Arthur said, “Ah, Merlin, mate. Thanks a million - you’re a real life saver.”

Merlin walked towards the table, drinks in hand, and after handing them out, he asked, “ ** _So_** , Vivi, I  _have_  to ask: how did you and Arthur meet?”

Well, he was still pretty awful. He was going gay-best-friend on Vivian as quick as he had set down the drinks, acting as though this information and all its juicy little details was of vital importance to him. Merlin did it all the time with customers but this? This was an honor.

"Our fathers work together," Arthur said, cutting in before she could begin twittering something about how their eyes had met across that crowded room, and how perfect the moment had been, and didn’t it just sound like a perfect love story?

"They thought it would be a good idea if we got to know each other a bit better," he said bitterly.

Merlin pouted slightly as Arthur thwarted his own schemes to make matters worse. He imagined Vivian told another, far more enthusiastic tale about their introductions. Unfortunately, Captain Killjoy was on the case, giving Merlin the basic, factual story. _Business_. Merlin should have known that this was Uther Pendragon’s doing. For having never met the man, Merlin had a strong lack of fondness for Arthur’s father. He had only gathered bits and pieces about him, all from his son’s point of view, which seemed to be layered with love, respect, and a sort of resentment that was unsure and timid like an awkward teenager. Now that Merlin knew Uther was involved, his pity for Arthur began to outweigh the frustration.

After taking a sip of his coffee, Arthur said, "This isn’t-" he broke off, looking up at Merlin. "This is much better than the usual rhino piss, Merlin. What is it?"

Merlin only grinned slightly in response to the praise Arthur gave his drink since “better than the usual rhino piss” was Arthurian for “brilliant” and “delicious”.

He was going to answer when Vivian shrieked, “Arthy!!! Let me try!” This interested Merlin. He could tell a lot about a person by the coffee that they-

 “Ick! Oh, Arthur, how can you drink that? It’s so bitter. You should try  _mine_.”

Oh.

 Of course. She was a troll. A complete, dim-witted banshee.  _Ffwcin hwren._ She was the worst kind of person. Why the  _fuck_  did Arthur agree to this? Did his father have that much influence over his life? Obviously the prat was not into her,  _thank fuck_. Anyone with a brain could have worked that one out but the fact that he was making an effort and putting up with her ignorant, loud, obnoxious self was proof of patience Merlin had not known Arthur possessed.

"I’m okay, Viv," Arthur said, clearly trying to suppress his laughter. 

Vivian was apparently far past the pouting stage. Voice shrill, she half screamed, “ARTHUR. Try it! Try iiiiiiiit!”

"Fine," he snapped, taking the drink a bit too forcefully from her hand and managing to spill some onto the sleeve of his shirt. 

He took a small sip of the drink and coughed at the taste.  “That is vile,” he spluttered. “No offense, Merlin, but that is absolutely disgusting. Is there even any coffee in that?”

"To each their own cup and in them both, a liquid, well suited to and inner mirror of the respective drinker," Merlin remarked sagely, thinking all the while that he would much rather take her drink and dump it over her head. It was a rather significant thought coming from Merlin, who was known to make small noises of disgust when a customer threw out a cup half finished and whimper sadly when there was a spill in his vicinity. Wasting coffee was a sin.

Poor Arthur. This little blond flower was hard to be around for mere moments. He could not imagine an entire date with her kind. Merlin really hoped this was their last stop. He did not want to imagine this escalating into anything more. They weren’t really dressed for a candle lit dinner or anything but…ugh. The thought made him want to gag. Merlin would attempt to save his friend, though his only ideas about how to run her off that came to mind would also be damaging to the whole father business. That was an area of Arthur’s life that Merlin was more than happy to stay 50 feet away from at all times. If he ever meet Uther Pendragon Merlin was quite sure he would punch the man without a second thought. It was blind, unjustified rage, he knew, yet it seemed the only course of feeling he was capable of at the moment.

“Merlin’s full of that kind of nonsense – God knows why I put up with him, when he makes such awful coffee,” Arthur said, fondness unmistakable in his voice. This was how it always was between them – they took the piss out of each other until they were blue in the face, successfully venting any pent up anger or frustration in a surprisingly effective and inoffensive manner, all the while understanding that their taunts had no real bite behind them.

“He’s all right, though,” Arthur added, as always breaking first and saying something nice, unable to keep up with the constant stream of insults. “Nice bloke, really. And God knows he works hard at that coffee machine.”

Merlin would have liked to say he refrained from grinning like an idiot and turning his head away from Arthur at the compliments, both hidden and blatant. In the end, however, he could not. Arthur’s words pleased him into giddy bits sometimes, though Merlin always waited until his favourite customer was gone before reliving the moments and laughing happily behind the counter. Arthur was witty and it caught Merlin off his guard at times. Having someone so equally matched in the art of face-to-face slander was not something the young barista was used to. He enjoyed it very much. Hell, he even looked forward to Arthur’s verbal abuse. It was part of what made the prat so damned likeable.

"Can I get you anything else, my lord and lady?" He said politely, though it was all just a desperate attempt to find his way back to the table before he was dismissed for good. Arthur was going to need all the help he could get on this one. "On the house."

At Merlin’s offer, Arthur frowned slightly. “Don’t be an idiot, Merlin, you know I’ll pay-”

“Why don’t you  _go away_?” Vivian suddenly snapped, crossing her arms and scowling. On her immature face, the expression was almost funny. “Can’t you tell neither of us want you here? Arthy and I are trying to have a  _romantic_ date – clean the secretly gay for Arthur Pendragon out of your stupid huge ears and  _scram_!”

Merlin would also have liked to say his ‘stupid huge ears’ did not turn slightly pink at Vivian’s sudden turn from annoying to outright rude but, alas, he could feel the tips of them growing hot. He barely heard the sounds of his other customers gasping and murmuring over his thoughts. Though, a few of them, he remembered vaguely, had offered to have his back if he ever needed it. Not that this was a situation he could not handle nor was it one that required physical force of any sort, but the notion was comforting to his subconscious. Merlin was, after all, in his natural habitat. This harpy had no sway in his domain, family name be damned.

Arthur half-rose, infuriated, before Merlin began to reply. "You must be mistaken, Miss Vivian." Merlin managed calmly and kindly, despite the temper steaming up within. He leaned in slightly towards her as he spoke, regardless of being certain the intimidating sweetness of his tone would not make it through her thick skull. "Ears and gayety aside, I would have guessed the first claim applied to you."

Merlin pulled himself upright again before Vivian could get her claws on him, knowing that it was likely a real possibility. He did not leave, however, feeling even more bound to Arthur’s predicament than before. It was not entirely necessary, Merlin knew, but somehow he felt it his duty to stay until Arthur himself requested he leave.  _What am I now, his manservant?_  His inward protest was weak and did not carry any further. He had argued with himself over the stupid attachment he had to the Pendragon more than enough at home and he had not the patience to be bothered by it now.

Arthur did not stand. He did not raise his voice. He did not even allow the slightest hint of irritation to infect his tone. He simply looked Vivian directly in the eyes, and said, “Sorry, Vivian. This has been great fun, but I need you to leave. Merlin is my friend, and I will  _not_  allow you to speak to him like that.” He smiled at her, though the expression did not quite reach his eyes. “Please go.”

Merlin had expected Vivian to snap at him, for Arthur to play diplomat between them, and for him to be reluctantly excused. Merlin had  _not_  expected Arthur to come to his defence so fervently and his ears to grow a bit redder at the sound of ‘Merlin’ and ‘friend’. Of course they were friends, Merlin would be stupid not to have realized that but it had never been spoken aloud with such honest passion.  _Passionate_. That was a sight to see in Arthur that made Merlin’s heart leap quite suddenly. It came down from that high rather quickly, however, at Vivian’s next plan of attack which was far more drastic than Merlin and Arthur both had been expecting.

Vivian, by contrast, did  _not_  remain calm. She leapt to her feet, fire in her eyes, and shrieked, “Oh my GOD, you’re gay too? I can’t  _wait_  to tell my father to tell your father about this.”

And with that, she picked up not only her cup of liquid sweetener, but Arthur’s delicious brew, and hurled them both in his face. Shock was all Merlin could feel as he stood frozen before the scene of two perfectly good coffees took flight and landed all over his prat, who reacted as any prat would, shouting and rising out of his seat.

 “You – you complete  _cow_!” Arthur stuttered, his patience finally worn thin. “What in the  _hell_ -“

But Vivian was already storming towards the door. “Take that, you – you QUEER,” she shrieked, slamming the shop’s door behind her.

Arthur just sat for a moment, gaping. Eventually, he looked up to meet Merlin’s eyes. Grinning shyly, he began, “Merlin…” At a loss for how to continue, he looked down again, then back at him. “…I have a feeling a hundred quid tip isn’t quite enough to smooth this over, is it?”

Merlin was taken out of his trance of aghast by the combined effort of Arthur and outraged customers behind them. Merlin quickly apologized to them, turning down both an offer to have someone teach her a lesson and a phone call to the police. He would feel both grateful and humoured about such things later; now his attention was stolen by Arthur Pendragon, soaked with coffee and quite bothered, no doubt.

"Holy shit." Merlin breathed, rushing behind the counter and reappearing with wet and dry rags. "Shit, shit, fucking  _hwren hyll_. Are you all right, Arthur? Didn’t burn anything important, did she?  _Ffwcin_ bitch.”

After wiping the coffee from his eyes, Arthur looked up at Merlin and made a face. “Just my pride,” he snorted. “I know I complain about them all the time, but for once I’m grateful your cups fail so completely at keeping coffee warm.” He shook his head. “Seriously though, mate. You have to do something these cups. Though it pains me to admit it, your rhino piss deserves better. If not I might have to go on a hunger strike. Lord knows I’m at least a quarter of your business by now. Though I don’t know how I’m supposed to show my face here again - half your regulars probably think I’m a soggy pouf with terrible taste in beards.”  

He looked down, fussing with the drenched sleeve of his coat. “Damn, this was a present from my sister – you have no idea how cross she’ll be if she finds out I got coffee thrown all over it. What the hell does Vivian think she’s playing at? This coat’s  _Burberry_.” He glowered for a moment, before an idea occurred to him. “I’ll have to make my father send her father’s firm for the cleaning bill. It’s the principle of the thing.” Seeming to remember his surroundings, Arthur said, “Seriously, though. Let me clean this up – give me a rag, will you?”

Merlin did not even glance at the table, also covered in coffee. They were made to withstand the heat and caffeine damage. Humans? Not so much. The barista handed Arthur a rag but tackled the man’s shirt with his own rag, sopping up the coffee while apologizing repeatedly. 

"I am  _so_   _sorry, Arthur_. I had no idea she would go mad like that. I shouldn’t have taunted her.  _Ffwcia…_ I  _am_  sorry! But she is mental, that one,  _twp slebog_. Shit, I really am sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur frowned some at Merlin’s frenzied statements. “Don’t be an idiot,  _Mer_ lin,” he snapped. “Why on  _earth_  are  _you_  apologizing? Did  _you_  invite that insane bloody woman here? No.”

Apparently coming to his senses after his brief outburst, Arthur sighed. “Sorry, mate. It’s… Well.” He gestured at his coffee-soaked attire. “You can tell what sort of a day it’s been.”

Merlin had never seen Arthur in such a temper. First he was babbling on about cups then in the blink of an eye he was on about his reputation and then, oh god, his  _clothes_? Merlin had a bit of a smile on when Arthur ranted about his precious  _Burberry_  coat, finding the scene not unlike a spoiled prince throwing a fit over something equally as insignificant in comparison to life in general. He was such a  _girl_  sometimes, honestly. It was oddly endearing. Merlin was about to comment as much (well not the affectionate bit) after murmuring his apologies but was shut up quickly by Arthur’s sudden harshness. Merlin closed his lips tightly, biting his tongue to keep it from wise-ass retorts. He knew Arthur had probably had a rough day and all but that did not excuse the prat from being so short with him. Merlin could only sigh when Arthur confirmed as much.

"Yeah, I can." He pulled the rag away from Arthur’s shirt then got down on his knees to mop up the coffee that had landed on the ground. "I’ve had my fair share of abysmal days, trust me. While I cannot say I have ever had two very good cups of coffee thrown at me I have definitely had days ending in ruined clothes and bad memories.”

“I wouldn’t say two good cups of coffee,” Arthur shot back. “One thoroughly passable cup, and one cup of something that tastes like… Satan’s  _bile_. Even from you, Merlin, I’m shocked.” He grinned, teasing.

"Oi! Don’t you judge. Some of my best customers pay a lot of money for Satan’s bile," Merlin said, doing his best to keep his scolding tone even if the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly.  “

“Some of your best customers are obviously almost as daft as you,” Arthur shot back.” Seriously, Merlin, I don’t think it’s possible to ingest too much of that stuff without suffering severe and irreversible brain damage.”

“Prat.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “Oh, and Arthur?” Merlin looked up at Arthur with a small smile and a mischievous light in his eyes."…you should probably tone down the distraught over your  _Burberry_. That is, if you want to avoid people assuming you’re gay. Soggy prat.”

He scowled a bit at what Merlin was implying. “I couldn’t care less about the sodding coat Just because I don’t dress like a hog farmer doesn’t mean I take it up the arse.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is that why people think I’m gay?”

As if to close the subject, he added, pouting a bit, “Anyway – it’s my sister I’m worried about – the coat was a present from her. Believe me. You do  _not_  want Morgana cross with you. And while I don’t much care what people think, I’m not gay. I’m just rich.” It took a moment for his words to catch up with him. “Christ, that sounded bad, didn’t it?”

Merlin had to give up on his attempts at seriousness when Arthur tried to make his case against being gay for that had him barking a laugh that hit him painfully in the chest. Merlin found himself amused as well as somewhat disappointed, which was  _ridiculous_. Even if Arthur had been gay, well, he was hardly Merlin’s type at all. Merlin did not date rich prats. Even if they were blond and gorgeous. Maybe it was the length Arthur was going to prove he was not gay? Merlin felt the same sting in his chest usually associated with being rejected.

 “Get up,” Arthur ordered. “I said I was going to clean this up. Shockingly enough I  _do_  know how to clean a floor.”

“ _You_? You know how to  _clean_?” Merlin gave an over exaggerated gasp of shock. “Arthur, I am extremely impressed and humbled. Its not every day my floor is graced with the attention of his Royal Pratness.”

The young barista nudged his friend playfully. Realizing he had never really had the chance to do such a thing from behind the counter or across the table he gave Arthur another nudge for good measure.

 “Yes,  _Mer_ lin, because I’m not a complete buffoon. Surprisingly enough, it doesn’t take a degree in teaching computers to read or whatever ridiculous thing you’re studying to figure out how to mop a floor.” Arthur held up his sopping rag. “In fact, this royal prat is more than happy to give you a few pointers.”

"And here I thought you  _were_  a complete buffoon. Sort of disappointing, really.” Merlin teased with a shake of his head. All right, so as much of a spoiled prat as Arthur was…well, he honestly was rather kind and thoughtful. Not many customers would get on hands and knees to clean up their own mess let alone one they had not made. It was not like they were being rude or anything, only, Merlin always offered to clean and they did not protest further. It was part of his job, really, so what compelled Arthur to go out of his way for people? It made him seem so… _good_. It could not be that, though. Arthur was a prat. A handsome prat. A rich, handsome prat. And rich, handsome prats did not get to be good too. That was for poor, ugly nerds like Merlin.

“Get us another rag, there’s a good lad,” Arthur said fondly. “This one’s about soaked through.”

"Oi, again, Arthur, not your servant! Not your grandson either so don’t talk to me like I’m four, ie?" Merlin said with a grin that did not match his tone. He stood, ruffling Arthur’s hair affectionately, though knowing full well it would probably irk him, and darting away to get some more rags before Arthur hit him with the coffee drenched one to avenge his perfect gold locks.  _Soggy prat._

Arthur rolled his eyes at Merlin’s protestation, calling after him. “I’m here paying for your services. Quid pro quo, that makes you my servant, at least while we’re here. Oh, and Merlin? If you were my grandson, I’d tell you to run away from home.””

A pleasant heat settled in Merlin’s stomach as he went behind the counter. Arthur had so quickly made his way into Merlin’s good graces, quite a feat for someone like him, and Merlin was only just beginning to realize how much he enjoyed the Pendragon’s company. This stirred a desire in Merlin. A desire to get to know Arthur Pendragon properly instead of just over money.

"So…" Merlin said, returning with a dry rag for each of them. "I know you are probably still battling the heartache over your one true love, Vivian, but if you can contain your emotional turmoil long enough we could go grab a bite? I don’t know about you but if anything makes me hungry its lovers quarrels and cleaning."

At Merlin’s question, Arthur clasped a hand to his heart in mock disgust. “Merlin, my heart has just been broken beyond repair, and you expect me to  _eat_?” He shook his head, as though mulling over his disappointment over Vivian’s reaction. He couldn’t keep it up for long; perking up immediately, he said, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to take my mind off things for a bit. Come on, I know a place.” He paused, remembering his current state. “But first - I’ve got to run home and change.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full thread can be found at http://pratquefuturus.tumblr.com/tagged/wasted-energies/chrono

**Author's Note:**

> This is an edited version of a Merthur RP the two of us did that has been edited into a more comprehensive work. Each chapter of this fic represents a particular thread in this AU.  
> The full thread can be found at http://pratquefuturus.tumblr.com/tagged/sometimes-it-burns/chrono


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